Murmansk-13

“Will you put that out? This is a medical ward.” The Doctor gestured to the cigarette in Tor’s hand.

His face twisted into an angry gurn, cheeks flushing. “This? I’ll extinguish this when you tell me where my fucking Chief Officer is. And what the hell is your fucking name?”

The Doctor smiled in victory and uncrossed her arms. “Smith, Rebecca Smith and as to where your Chief Officer is I obviously do not know. I can furnish you with his name though.”

Tor extinguished his cigarette, crushing it into the deck and languidly ran his palm down his face. “Thank you Doctor Smith, that won’t be necessary.”

Doctors routinely saw themselves above Captains on voyages. Better trained and better paid, they usually entered deep space manning pools to escape some bad experience or malpractice. Smith was young though, probably one of those looking to experience-the-galaxy types. Those were the ones who could never hide their superciliousness.

Tor had flown the last six years with Dr. Pawel Tomarczyk, an ageing Pole who had ties to Solidarity. He spent his shore leave on service stations, never daring to return to Earth. He’d been an ornery prick to deal with, but the type of ornery prick Tor liked. He’d been replaced at Reticuluum with no explanation, he’d simply vanished into the station. Some of the crewmembers hypothesised the Politburo had finally caught up with him. Tor wondered if the chase had simply become too much and he’d spaced himself. Either way, he knew he wouldn’t see the old bastard again. He remembered that familiar sadness.

“Are you sure he was even in the cryobed in the first place? Or has he been missing for the last eight months?” Condescension was never the answer with Doctors, but she was young and a woman, maybe he could cow her.

“I iced him and counted him up.” She waved a meaningless clipboard at Tor’s face.

“But didn’t count him yesterday?” The Doctor pursed her narrow lips but remained silent. Eyes squinted daggers at the Captain, suddenly she looked very young.

Tor took a step beyond the Doctor to address the bay, twelve men and women kicked their feet in the body warm room, trying to look very interested in the deck. “Okay, you all heard that, the Chief is missing, we’re going to conduct a manhunt. Each person keeps to his department. Engine guys search the engine, galley guys search the galley, stores and habitation. Bosun, you and Tala search corridors, wiring ducts and take the cadet. Don’t break anything. Everybody keep a close eye on logs, especially on the airlocks. Hopefully he’ll turn up but be careful, stay in your groups. This isn’t a drill.”

He watched the crew buddy up, they were all familiar with each other, all on the same long haul rotation thirty-six month contract, no outliers or animosity as far as he knew. They were a good crew, capable if not exceptional. They’d conduct the search well, but if they found anything it’d almost certainly be a corpse. He could sense the paperwork and delays ahead.

Tor stepped aside to allow the crew to filter out of Medical as wiry Jan sidestepped beside him. “We may have a bigger concern, Tor,” he said in an ululating Troms Norwegian dialect, low and gruff at odds with his gaunt physique. “The engine is idle, she’s been offline a while. Totally cold, could be seized.”

The blood drained from Tor’s face. “Could we be at Talus?”

“Not a chance, Skip. Thrusters and rockets haven’t fired for months and there’s something else.” Nilsen’s stubbly face was equally pale. “In eight months, the EM drive was never activated.”

A rushing sensation filled his ears. Where the hell are we?

Beside the Doctor, only two men remained in the bay, duties unassigned. Bulgarian Navigation Officer Atanas Mihailov and Radio Officer James Stewart, Brit. “Everybody else on the bridge.”

☣☭☠

Chief Officer Nikolai Falmendikov wasn’t missing. That much was apparent. The search had been called off and the remaining compliment of the DSMV Riyadh had congregated on the bridge. Backs pressed to the far bulkhead, furtive eyes looked at the grim faced Captain and Chief Engineer. Pettersson and Doctor Smith had absolved themselves of responsibility and melted into the crowd. Mihailov and Stewart busied themselves, avoiding eye contact and ignoring hushed questions.

The lights, the fucking lights. It must have been then. A disquieted hush fell over the now fully illuminated bridge.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard, or what is already making the rumour rounds,” Tor kept his voice neutral, made eye contact with each of his crew in turn, following the line they’d formed around the elevator. “Chief Officer Nikolai is not onboard and we’re not at Talus.”

The crew murmured their displeasure. Tor braced himself for his next revelation. “In fact, we don’t appear to be anywhere near Talus.”